A walking stick propped up against the gate post is usually an announcement that someone has come visiting. In this instance, however, the person must remain imaginary and a memory of times past when he came from America.
About a month ago I began carving a piece of huon pine for my mentor and long time artistic buddy Paulus Berensohn. I put the first coat of oil on it the day before his 80th birthday.
And the source for it’s quirky form? Perhaps, the hakea bush outside the kitchen window?
The bulbous sensual forms should fit nicely in the potter’s knowing palm as he struts to the Penland post office to retrieve mail still sent the old way.
And who knows? There might be a dance waiting to be choreographed with this willing third leg. I’m certain that the 20 stacked fruit are desiring of a partner to give them caressing pushes and pulls, swings and taps around the dance floor.
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